Before the first star dared to flicker, before time learned to crawl, before silence understood it was silence, there was only the Stillness.

  A void so absolute it devoured even the idea of sound.

  Then came a ripple.

  A vibration.

  A disturbance.

  A question.

  A croak.

  It split the Stillness like a blade through water, and from that rupture emerged Diz, the Mystic Frawg — the first being who refused to remain quiet.

  His throat pulsed with the vibration of creation.

  His eyes opened into the infinite.

  His presence forced the void to become a universe.

  Diz did not speak language.

  He was language.

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  He was the first question, the first disturbance, the first spark of becoming.

  And the cosmos trembled awake.

  The scholars who study Diz call this era The Veil Before Knowing.

  The mystics call it The Croak That Birthed Worlds.

  The prophets call it The Moment Everything Began.

  But Diz remembers it simply as the first time he felt alone.

  So he croaked again.

  And galaxies spiraled outward.

  He croaked again.

  And matter condensed.

  He croaked again.

  And consciousness stirred.

  Every world, every creature, every possibility — all of it echoes the first sound he ever made.

  Diz is not a myth.

  He is the root system beneath all myths.

  His croak is still vibrating through the fabric of existence.

  Every star is a ripple of it.

  Every thought is a faint memory of it.

  The Primeval Veil closes, but its resonance never stops.

  T U N A

  the universe nourishes all